WithanE

There are no words.

Reluctant thoughts reverberate through my shattered mind.

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Mamma found my name in the Sunday obituary

said it fit like her favorite vintage cutoffs.

the ones she wore before she knew she wanted to be a mom.

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I am your consequence.

I am your pain.

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what difference exists

between nature

and in Hell?

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My mouth has gone dry from licking my wounds

and still they weep the tears my eyes refuse.

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dance dance, what a feeling.

spin and sing and live.

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It’s easy to find yourself alone for lunch on a Friday

Low carbs and no-carbs turn to the gluten free righteous and tut their tongues at the proposal of bacchanalian lunch break.

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She was strung up like garland on the Christmas tree

Arms limp, dangling ornaments so carefully placed Legs that were an afterthought pulling the remaining life away.

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